A Nice Cup of Coffee
by CeliaEquus
Summary: Nick has no idea who's been making the little cocoa powder pictures in the coffee his best friend always brings him. So why is he in charge of an intelligence organisation? Disclaimer: I don't own any Marvel thingummies, nor am I making money from this. For the Lump of Coul Exchange!


"A Nice Cup of Coffee"

Nick Fury didn't look up as his best friend entered the office.

"Brought your coffee," Phil Coulson said, placing a cardboard cup on Nick's desk.

"You watched them—"

"Through the whole brewing process, yes, I did. I think I should feel insulted that you still question that."

"Be honest, Cheese. If I didn't show my usual paranoia, you'd be suspicious."

Phil chuckled, and Nick indicated the chair opposite. He parked himself down while Nick took his first sip of double-shot latte with syrup. Mmm. Phil slowly drank his own coffee, a medium black with just the right amount of milk.

(Nick once asked why Phil was so damn precise when they drank for the energy, not the taste.

"I like the colour," he said.

"Why?"

A deadpan smirk. "It's the colour of your eye, sir."

"Suck-up."

"Is that a request?" Phil asked, eyes half-lidded.

He didn't bother asking again.)

Nick peeled the cover off his cup. He didn't always remember to check the foam picture – he had more important things on his mind, being the head of an organisation more secretive than the CIA – but he liked to see it anyhow.

When Phil joined SHIELD, he became Nick's closest confidante after displaying more loyalty than even Captain America could be guilty of. Soon he was the only one Nick trusted to get his caffeine fix without supervision, a tradition which continued to this day. Whenever Nick was snowed under with paperwork (which happened all too frequently) Phil would get him a drink as well. Without even having to ask. He knew when coffee was required.

Several months ago, Nick noticed a difference one day. Instead of the usual miserly sprinkling of cocoa powder, it was formed in a picture. A smiley face.

"What the hell?" he blurted out. Phil was silent, and Nick glared at him. "What. The hell. Is this?"

"Coffee," Phil said.

"The picture, Coulson!"

"It looks like a smiley face." Nick growled. "It seems that someone wants to cheer you up. You've been like a bear with a sore head this week."

"A smiley face."

"Two circles and a banana shape? Either it's a smiley face or someone doesn't know their male anatomy well enough."

He didn't dignify that with a response.

So Nick typed up a memo stating that time was _not_ to be wasted on making pictures with the chocolate powder. He sent it to Phil for approval. The reply was short:

' _If you say so, sir. Why do you need my advice?_ '

Which was Coulson Code for 'This is a waste of resources, and probably a one-off, so don't make a big deal out of this, you loser'. This was why they were friends.

The pictures still cropped up every so often. Usually a smiley or winking face, a flower whenever Nick was recovering from an injury, and on one memorable occasion an attempt at a cake for his birthday. Nick suspected that Phil suggested that one, since his birthday wasn't common knowledge.

Then the first heart came.

"What the actual fuck?" he said. When he looked up, Phil wasn't smirking, not even close. His face was carefully blank.

"Sir?" he said.

"It's a goddamn heart!"

"Maybe someone thinks you have one? Or need one?"

"Shit. You need to organise a different barista."

"I'm… I'm sure it won't happen again."

Nick rolled his eye, but didn't comment.

It wasn't the last time, either. At first it was back to normal chocolate sprinkling, then a face, then even the shape of a gingerbread man. Nick felt almost bad about it, and hoped Phil wasn't too harsh on whichever coffee maker – or makers – had put time and effort into trying to brighten his day. So the next time he got the picture of a heart, he didn't say anything about it. Just drank quietly, half-expecting Phil to mention it, and was grateful that he didn't.

"What is it today?" Phil asked. Nick snorted.

"A snowflake, I'm guessing," he said, showing off the slightly marred chocolate image. "Must be near Christmas."

"Sir, we're halfway through December."

"…Uh-huh."

Phil rolled his eyes.

"Of course you've forgotten," he muttered. "Want me to do your Christmas shopping again this year?"

"Damn it, you make me sound like a—"

"Busy man," Phil said. "Because you are. I don't know why you don't try online shopping. SHIELD's servers are the most secure in the world."

"No thanks," Nick said. "Beside, I get your present for you."

"I'm the only one you buy for personally because I get everything else."

"It's the thought that counts. And in the spirit of giving, here's your new mission."

"Oh, you give me the best presents," Phil said dryly, accepting the file. He flicked through it. "You have Clint Barton's whereabouts?"

"Just go get him for me, Cheese. Shoot him if you have to, but bring him in."

* * *

Shooting Barton in the leg when he ran was the easy part, and it _definitely_ wasn't easy. It was extracting him from danger that was the hard part of the mission. No one had anticipated someone trying to intervene; no one except Phil, who'd made contingency plans. He ended up with a leg injury when he kicked someone whose stomach must've been made of steel. If it wasn't for the speedy reflexes of another agent, Phil wouldn't have gotten away in time.

Nick was putting the agent up for commendation. If it wasn't for her, he would've lost his best friend.

Of course, SHIELD agents were notoriously bad when it came to staying in medical, so Phil was probably wishing he'd been left behind, instead of being laid up in bed.

"Coulson's usual order," he told the barista when he got to the cafeteria.

"Yes, Commander Fury," the young man replied, working fast. "Is Agent Coulson recovering quickly?"

"Classified," Nick said automatically.

"Do you want the stencils?"

"…What?"

"The cappuccino stencils," the barista said, tapping on the counter. "Agent Coulson is the only one who uses them. Since he's not here at the moment…"

Nick declined as the man prattled on. His mind ran over the last few months, ever since the first damn image of a heart. The smiley faces made sense; he and Phil had been friends for years. But the hearts?

" _It's the colour of your eye, sir."_

A blank face when Nick questioned the first heart. Discouraging him from banning the pictures.

" _It's the colour of your eye, sir."_

Picking up the coffee even when Nick wasn't busy. Knowing when he was needed.

" _It's the colour of your eye, sir."_

Flirtatious remarks once joking, trailing off after the hearts began.

"Done, sir," the barista said. "So no stencils?"

Nick paused.

* * *

Barton was still in quarantine, since it was the most secure medical unit. Phil wished he was in the main ward, because no one else was on bed-rest at the moment, making it deadly dull. He didn't even have any more paperwork to do. Being the fastest at filling out forms was coming back to bite him in the ass.

"Hey."

He looked up and smiled at his boss. He tried to ignore the jump in his heart-rate, betrayed by the machine beeping faster.

"And to think you're always telling me to spend less time at SHIELD," he quipped, waving to indicate the room.

"You're important," Fury said. "D'you think I'm leaving you in a public hospital?"

"Aw, I'm touched," Phil said, smoothing his sheets. He brightened when he noticed the familiar cups in the director's hands. "Am I allowed?"

"It's decaf."

"Damn."

"But I added enough milk." Phil smirked lightly at the in-joke. "To make it the colour of my eye."

He laughed, aware that it sounded unnatural, and pulled the tray across his lap. Fury placed the cup square in the centre.

"Open it," he said.

Phil hesitated. He glanced up, and in that moment he hated Fury's poker face. But he was Phil Coulson, damn it, and his hands were steady as he removed the lid.

A chocolate powder heart.

"Ah," he said softly. He felt sick, and rubbed his eyes with his left hand. "I see."

"Do you?"

"It was… we're friends. Sir."

"And that's all you want?"

Phil lowered his hand and stared at the foam. "All I can expect," he said honestly.

"Cheese…"

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I'll stop."

"You don't have to," Fury said, the bed dipping where he perched beside Phil's legs.

"The hearts. It was inappropriate, and I apologise." He wanted to meet Fury's eyes, but couldn't. He wasn't even sure he could pick up the coffee without spilling it.

"Would've been if you were coming on to me."

"It crossed my mind," Phil said. "Telling you how I felt. It was safer to be a…"

"Secret admirer?"

Phil scowled at him. "Yeah, go ahead and laugh, asshole," he muttered.

"Christ, Coulson, you're not in grade school anymore."

"I never had a best friend to fall in love with at school." Fury's eyebrows rose. "You didn't realise that, did you? Seems I haven't lost my talent for espionage. I should go into the field more often."

"Or maybe I'm dense when it comes to you," Fury said. "I don't know how I missed the signs."

"You missed the longing looks?" Phil said, trying to be flippant. "The smiles that were just for you?"

" _Were_ there any of those?"

"…Probably more than I'd care to admit."

Fury sighed, and he laid his hand over Phil's. "Next time don't hide how you feel. Not from me."

"I didn't want things to be awkward between us. I've been trying to suss out for months how you'd feel about bending the rules for me. I was even going to tell you in a Christmas card so you'd have time to think about it, or at least work out the kindest way to let me down—"

"I'm not the only one here who's dense, apparently."

Fury stood, letting go of Phil's hand, and bent over and kissed him. It took Phil a few seconds to get with the program, and even longer to remember how to think after the kiss was over.

"What… was that?" he said.

"Me returning your feelings, dumbass. Now rest up. I expect you to be fit enough to leave the hospital by Christmas Eve so we can spend the holiday at my place. Your place has stairs and a shower, no bath."

"…Nick?"

Fury kissed him again, longer this time, and Phil allowed himself to enjoy it. If this was a morphine-induced dream, he'd ask the doctors for a few extra phials while he recovered at home.

"Now." Fury drew away with a last peck on his lips. "Drink your coffee before it gets cold. I've got Christmas shopping to do, and now I know _exactly_ what to get you this year."

"Just get me you," Phil said. "I don't need any more. Even if this isn't real, being with you makes me happy."

"Keep talking like that and I won't get any shopping done," Fury said, making for the door. "Sleep, Phil. Director's orders."

Phil watched his boss leave first, and then obediently took a sip of coffee. It was still hot enough to scald his upper lip, and he set the cup down with a hiss. And then it dawned on him.

It _was_ real.

He smiled.

* * *

 **This is for cpwatcher, for the Lump of Coul Exchange! I'll be down south for Christmas, with no internet connection, so I hope cpwatcher reads, reviews, and enjoys before then. To everyone else, I hope you liked this little yuletide fic. I had writer's block over it for ages, so I changed the ship and replotted the entire thing. Then wrote this all in the space of about 1.5 hours, after angsting over the original for weeks.**

 **Patience is truly a virtue. So is replotting.**

 **Please review!**


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